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Long poem by Joe Flach | Details |

Straight to Hell - A Short Story

I was a seventeen year old senior in a coed, catholic high school.  Our gym classes however were still all boys and all girls.  My senior year we had gym every other day and music every other day in the same time slot.  The music classes, therefore, were also all boys or all girls.

She was a twenty-eight year old nun in her first teaching assignment.  She was in way over her head.  She was about five-foot-four and weighed practically nothing.  The nuns in our school no longer wore habits and I remember thinking it was a good thing because she would probably fly away like Sally Fields.  If you don’t know what I mean by that then you are too young to be reading my story.

The music class was a mad house.  She could not control a room of twenty some boys bound and determined to make her life hell.  I mean, music class?  Really?

We never did the homework assigned; never answered her questions seriously; never believed her threats at discipline; wouldn’t accept the demerits she tried to hand out; and basically goofed off for the hour that was supposed to be dedicated to learning about music.

For some reason, she seemed too proud or too green or too determined to go to the principal or another teacher for help; and, sensing that, we knew we could get away with our childish behavior and so we did.

One day, a handful of us “got in trouble” and she said she wanted to talk to us after class.  I was the only one that actually stayed.  She tried to lecture me on my bad behavior but I guess my smirk was evidence it was not sinking in.  Then, she started to cry, and for the first time I saw her as a person.

“What am I doing,” she cried.  "I can’t do this.  I am trying; I am really trying, but I am not cut out for this.  Why are you boys so mean and hateful?”

I stood up in front of her not knowing what to do or what to say.  I felt like a real jerk.  I was a real jerk.

Tears poured down her face, which I finally recognized as being a pretty face.  She bowed her head and just sobbed.  In my awkward seventeen year old manner, I slowly opened my arms and allowed her to lean into me.  And I hugged her while she wept.
   
At seventeen, I was no ladies’ man, and this crying nun was the first woman I had ever held so close to me.  I could feel her breasts pressed against me; the heat emitting from her body; and, the delicate nature of her womanly form in my arms.  I knew then that I was destined to go straight to hell for the thoughts that were going through my head and the feelings I felt between my legs.

She pulled away and whispered, “I am so sorry, I should not have done that.  You may go.”

I simply said, “You know, you are doing fine, you just have a class of a bunch of butt holes”, and walked out of the room.  It was that night that she started coming to see me in my dreams.  To hell I go, for sure.

I wish I could tell you I had the moxie and the influence to whip that class into shape, but I did not.  The mad house continued with one less student joining in the fun.  I tried my best to behave, answer her questions, pay attention and feign interest in the topic of the day – but I was just one in a sea of monsters.  I stayed after class and after school a few times to talk with her, ask her how she was doing, and see if I could help in any way.  She was actually starting to get the hang of things and was able to focus on the few classes that were willing to learn.

At the end of the school year, I was one of the few students who had not enrolled in a college for the coming year.  Because I was one of the better students, it caused a little bit of a fuss and a number of teachers talked to me about the huge mistake I was making taking some time off before going to college.  It seems they were all convinced that if I did not start into college in the fall, I was doomed to never go to college.  I challenged them by saying what they were really worried about was their statistics of percentage of students who went on to further their education.

During the last day of classes, the music teacher asked me to stay after class.  It appears, it was her turn to try to talk some sense into me.

“So, I hear you are not going to college,” she said.

“No, I’m going to college … some day, just not this fall.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet.  Take some time off.  Work.  Nothing.  I don’t know.  Why is it so important to everyone?  When the time is right, I’ll go to college.”

“They just care about you.”

“Bull loney,” I said, only it was another word.

She smiled at me.  I had been dreaming about her now for six months.  I changed the topic.

“Have you ever kissed a boy?”

She laughed, “You know, I grew up the same as every girl in this high school.  I did have boyfriends.”

“Yeah, but have you ever kissed a boy,” I challenged.

“No.  Not the way you mean.”

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like?”

“No.  Never,” she lied.

“If I told you I will register for college if you kiss me, will you?”

“No.  I believe you when you say you just need some time off.  I think that is a good idea.”

Then she walked up close to me and stopped a heartbeat away.  Suddenly, she reached down between my legs, grabbed the crouch of my pants and said, “Just don’t let this thing get you in trouble.”

She abruptly turned and walked out of the classroom while I tried to catch my breath.

During the graduation ceremony I saw her sitting with the other teachers and shared a private smile with her while walking back to my seat after being handed my diploma.  I would never see her again … outside of my dreams.

I often think about my high school music teacher and my ticket straight to hell.  Unfortunately, I never heeded her advice.  That body part of mine she grabbed ahold of for a fleeting second those many years ago, has gotten me in trouble time and time again.


Long poem by Trisha Sugarek | Details |

The Ash Can

The Ash Can  ©

I got the call on Sunday night.  I was traveling on business.  When I looked at the caller ID
 I wondered why my husband’s boss would be calling me.  I was unprepared for what
 he told me and my legs turned to water when he said that my husband was dead. 
 ‘A heart attack?  An accident?’ I asked.  ‘No’, he said, ‘John committed suicide.  
 They found him in your garage this morning.’  I heard someone screaming and 
wished that they would stop so I could hear the rest.  His voice was very far away
 and the woman just kept screaming.  ‘Shut up! Shut up!’  I need to hear.  I clapped my
 hand over my mouth when I suddenly realized it was me who was screaming.
 I don’t remember hanging up or getting on the plane. (beat)  Yes, John and I were having
 problems and we had been separated for about three months but nothing was official. 

 After thirty years of marriage I never believed that we couldn’t weather this and share 
the rest of our lives together.  This was just a phase he was going through…some sort 
of mid-life crisis.  This had to be some horrible mistake, a case of mistaken identity.  
My John would never do this, leave me like this.  (beat)  

I stumbled into our home around nine the next morning.  The house looked like a woman
 hadn’t lived there for months. Dirty dishes in the sink, groceries half put away, empty 
beer cans and a full ashtray by John’s chair.  Seeking comfort I walked over to his chair. 
 Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a reflection in the mirror over the
 fireplace.  Some wild looking woman with mascara smudges under her eyes and smeared
 lipstick looked out at me. I walked closer to inspect this stranger in my house.  
She looked old and used up.  Who was she?  What had life dealt her to look so worn out? 
Oh, God, it was me.  Staring out with those eyes bleeding hot, raw pain.  (beat)  I curled
 up in John’s chair and closed my eyes.  Was this all I had left of my husband?  This slightly shabby piece of furniture that still smelled of him?  How could I tell our children?  Could I bear to go into the garage?  What would I find? 
 I knew that they had taken his body away but what had they left there for me to see?  
Maybe something there would prove that this was truly a mistake.    I rose to my feet and 
walked into the kitchen and through the laundry room to the garage door. (beat)

I slowly opened it and was knocked back by the remaining stink of gas fumes.   
John’s car sat in its parking spot, the garden hose hanging from the back window like 
some obscene snake.  I gagged and pressed the button to open the garage door.  
The passenger side window was open so I could look inside without having to touch the car.  And what I saw on the seat told it all.  There was John’s cell phone, an empty bottle of Vodka and a bottle of Excedrin.  (beat)  And something else…a second cell phone…what in the world? I was only allowed five seconds of blissful denial before it all came crashing down on me.  The second phone…the secret phone that men who cheat keep to talk to their lovers.  All those protestations he offered during the time that we were apart.  ‘No, there was no one else’, ‘I just need to find myself’, ‘I don’t want a divorce’, ‘I just need some time’. ‘I love you; I’m just not in love with you.’  Lies, all lies!  How could I have been so stupid?  Then I notice a crumpled manila envelope on the floor of the car.  Anger driven, I opened the door and picked up the envelope and the two cell phones and went back into the house.  Sitting in John’s chair once again, I smoothed out the envelope and read what was written there.  
‘Ricky, tell Sherry I love her. Tell Sherry I can’t live without her.  Tell Sherry not to cry
 for me. Sherry, I’ll love you forever. I’m sorry.....John-Boy.’  Who the hell was Sherry? 
 Did my husband of three decades kill himself over some tramp?  Some other woman 
whom he barely knew?  I picked up the second cell phone and scanned the history of calls.
  Where was area code 864? As I set the phone down my eye caught the partial title of 
a book lying on the rug under the table.  Picking it up, I read: ‘How To Keep A Long 
Distance Relationship Exciting and New.’  I opened it to the first few pages and found an
 inscription,  ‘To my tiny dancer, until we meet again.  Love forever, your John-Boy.’
My God, John, how could you?  How could you do this to us?  I yelled as I threw the 
book across the room; will this hellish nightmare never end? (beat)  I picked up the
 cell phone and scrolled down the history; Sherry Hoffman, Sherry Hoffman, Sherry Hoffman, Sherry Hoffman.  No other woman, huh, John? South Carolina…hence the long distance relationship…you’re such a fool, I told myself. There was voice mail saved and I listened to the most current ones.  Those messages told a story of a married woman who had a son and a new grandchild. 

Another sad, pedestrian story of a restless woman trapped in a loveless marriage but
 unwilling to leave.  The daughter-in-law apparently would not let Sherry see the child. 
 It seemed that John, in a misplaced attempt to help, called Sherry’s son to insist that
 he let Sherry see her grand-baby. 
 Only to succeed in blowing up that family.   The final message was not so sweet and 
sexy from his lover. Sherry had dumped my husband. (beat)  I didn’t know whether 
to laugh or cry.  I seemed to be trapped in a crazed, unbelievable soap opera.  But what 
is it that they say about truth being stranger than fiction?  I sighed.  John had always
 wanted to rescue anyone in trouble…even when they didn’t ask for help.   He had crossed
the line calling that woman’s son.  Oh, John, what were you thinking?,  I asked the empty
 room. Didn’t you know?  You were her dirty little secret.... (more)

(from my book, Monologues 4 Women) 





Long poem by SillyBilly theKidster | Details |

Billy the Kid's Great Escape

*
Sentenced to hang in the town of Lincoln,
Billy made his bold escape.
Both of his guards died from thinking
that a shackled young boy couldn't break away.
*
I've often wondered what thoughts were going through his head
as he stood staring out that window chained to the floor by his bed,
watching the gallows being built that would soon seal his fate.
Was he planning at that very moment his greatest escape?
Did he already know that his hanging would never come to be?
Was he already aware that before night fall, once again he'd be free?
Whatever his thoughts, they were interrupted rudely
by Deputy Bob Ollinger, one of his guards while in custody.
"Word has it you said that if we ever met again you'd kill me on the spot. 
Well here I am Kid. Now's your chance. Show me what you've got. 
It's a shame that you'll hang in another week or two, 
because I'd love to be the one who gets to kill you. 
I've got 16 silver dimes in the barrells of my shotgun. 
I'd love to try them out on you, but I can't unless you run. 
If I free you from those chains will you run for the door? 
Oh by the way Kid, your Ma was one sweet dirty whore. 
I'll kill you before you hang Kid. That's a sure bet." 
"Be careful Bob," said the Kid, "I'm not hung yet."
Bob thrusted his shotgun hard into Billy's gut. 
The Kid looked up at him in pain and said, "Now what?" 
"Don't do it Bob," Bell screamed angrily,
"or you'll be the one who'll hang for sure 
for killing an unarmed man in cold blood
who was chained helplessly to the floor. 
It's time for the other prisoners to be escorted across the street to be fed. 
The Kid's not going anywhere. He's chained to the floor by his bed. 
Anyway, I took the prisoners last so now it's your turn. 
Go and have yourself a beer and I'll stay here 
and guard the Kid until you return." 
Bob Ollinger placed his shotgun into the gun rack. 
Before he left he said to Billy, "I'll see you when I get back." 
No one can say for sure if the above dialog ever truly took place, 
but one thing's for sure, 
Ollinger tormented Billy at a merciless endless pace. 
They were arch enemies who fought against each other
during the Lincoln County War. 
Ollinger was in the posse that killed John Tunstall,
Billy's employer, friend and mentor. 
"I have to use the privy Bell," Billy said to the deputy. 
Bell kept his rifle trained on Billy as he tossed him the key. 
Billy unlocked the chains that kept him bound to the floor. 
Still in handcuffs and leg irons, Bell escorted Billy out the door. 
Billy entered the outhouse closing the door behind him. 
"Let's not take too long in there Kid," Bell said with a humorous grin. 
While in the outhouse Billy managed to slip one of his hands out of his handcuff. 
"You fall in there Kid?" Bell laughed, "You've been in there long enough." 
"I'm coming out now Bell," Billy said opening the door. 
"Sorry I took so long Bell. I must have ate something bad for sure." 
Deputy Bell then escorted Billy back to the jail cell. 
Once inside, Billy spun around and smacked hard Deputy James Bell. 
Bell lost his balance, dropped his rifle and was momentarily stunned. 
"Hands Up Bell!," the Kid yelled. In his hand was a gun. 
"Please don't do it Bell," Billy pleaded, but Bell tried to run. 
The Kid had no choice but to do what had to be done. 
He shot and killed Bell, then went and got Ollinger's shotgun. 
The Kid never found pleasure in killing, 
but Ollinger would indeed be the exception. 
Knowing that Ollinger heard the gunfire, Billy stood by the window 
and waited for Ollinger to appear in the street down below. 
One senior named Godfrey saw Bell fall dead down the stairs. 
The moment probably gave Godfrey a few more gray hairs. 
Ollinger ran out into the street as Godfrey screamed, 
"The Kid's killed Bell!" 
Ollinger looked up into both barrels of his own shotgun 
and whispered, "..and now he's killed me as well."
"Hello Bob!," Billy called out with a song in his heart 
just prior to blowing Bob Ollinger apart. 
He blasted both barrels into Ollinger's chest and face. 
Pieces of old Bob lay scattered all over the place. 
Billy smashed his shotgun in two, threw it at him but missed. 
"You'll never rifle me again," he screamed, "you son of a b*tch!" 
On the balcony he addressed the crowd whose jaws hung agape. 
"I don't want to hurt anyone, 
but I'll kill anybody who tries to prevent my escape." 
In the office he found a sledge hammer
and smashed the chains of his leg irons free. 
He told Godfrey to fetch him a fast horse immediately. 
As he walked down the stairs, he came upon Bell's lifeless body 
and many eyewitnesses admit
that the Kid looked upon him and said almost tearfully, 
"I'm sorry I killed you Bell, but couldn't help it." 
As Billy mounted the horse the chains of his leg irons startled the beast. 
The horse reared up and threw Billy down onto the street. 
He was at this point his most vulnerable laying down on the ground. 
The crowd could have overtaken him easily, but none made a move or a sound. 
Once again Billy mounted the horse
and fled with the sound of his leg iron chains ringing. 
Many claim that as he rode out of Lincoln County
that they heard the Kid singing. 
Billy had escaped danger so many other times in his past, 
but this was his greatest escape ever. It would also be his last.
*
"I had no intention of killing either one of them. My plan was to tie and gag Bell and then get out of there before Ollinger got back, but then things went terribly wrong.....I certainly didn't want to kill Bell, but I had to in order to save my own life....I never felt happier than when I gave it to old Bob. I said, "Look up here old boy and see what you're getting". I then blasted him in the face and breast. He use to ride me to the point where I just couldn't take it anymore."
- Billy the Kid


Long poem by David William Breidenthal | Details |

Sing To Me Your Lullaby with Sexy Style in California

*Chorus*
Sing to me your lullaby with Sexy Style in California right now
Oh paint a delightful smile on my face and make me laugh with joy and happiness 
somehow…
You’re my ultimate addiction – you lift me higher than cloud seven
I gottah keep pace to run this race the right way…so, I want yah to stay here for a 
little while
Alright, you’re making my day…you are like my cherished Haven
Satisfaction is ours, baby…nothing’s in my way today! We’re runnin’ thee extra 
mile!
Can you see it like fireworks in the sky?
Did you ever wish to be free
Like those mockingbirds and jays in the aqua-blue sky? 
You and I will receive the ability to fly
The ability to show off our inner glow…yah know…soooo…
And we’ll be putting up a show…yah know…yah know…let the wicked wind blow…
oooh ahhahah ohhh…
Take away my flaws…my worst fears…my weaknesses
Give me a big applause for trying my best and can you motivate me to beat this 
race?
Let go of all worries…my bad memories…replace em with my strengths and clean 
up all of our “emotional love” messes
Gather around me, my stinging, beautiful bees…I’ll try to pass the test…and you’ll 
do the rest just in case…
I get pleasure off of your applauses…your full attention…give up your aggressive 
side and your anger…take out the trash that’s filthy with strife and clean up your 
act! We need peace and that’s a fact! You need to give me your surreal 
satisfaction…We feel like we’re top dog right now! Who’s boss? We are! Come on, 
sistahs and brothahs, let’s BODYQUAKE! Let’s dance! Let’s embrace this terrific, 
tranquil trance! I fancy you, baby…don’t hit the brakes…
Sing to me your lullaby with Sexy Style in California
Don’t stop, darling – stay with me for a long while! I know – I act silly and 
immatcha! 

*Bridge*
Me: I’m wingless…I’m invisible…
I’m incredible...yet, I can do the impossible
Fighting negativity, so I can be me – 
Instead, I invite positivity and kiss sunlit glee 
Everyone: You’re a gift, not a curse
You’re a cure – you’re a lullaby in reverse…
Everyone: Rehearse to me our freedom
Rehearse to me our liberty 
Rehearse to me your satisfaction
Rehearse to me – we’ll take action! Oooooh yeaaaaah
I was once stuck in the pit of my misery and poverty…He’s my Amazing Grace and 
more – his words are tattooed everywhere in my body…
But now I’m free as a bird out of her cave

*Chorus*
Beyonce and others: Sing to me your lullaby with Sexy Style in California 
Don’t stop, darling – stay with me for a long while! Let’s break the law and let’s 
shop at the mall
You’re my ultimate addiction – you lift me higher than cloud seven
I gottah keep pace to run this race the right way…you made my day by giving me 
the energy and confidence to run the extra mile
Alright, you’re making my day…you are like my cherished Haven
Satisfaction is ours, baby…nothing’s in my way today! 
Can you stay here for a while? You sing to me your lullaby with a sugar-and-spice 
style!

Sing to me your lullaby with Sexy Style in California 
Let’s swing about and stand tall when we encounter dangah!
Fight with all of your might and be proud that we fought the good fight! Now, 
everything’s black and white and everything’s alright!
You’re *my drug of delight!x3* I promise my love towards you wo’t bite – if it 
does, it means I want you and your surreal light as soon as possible, even if it 
means going through a perilous plight! 

*Bridge #2*
Rihanna/Beyonce (duet): You’re my beloved disease…
You put my heart and mind at ease…
Please…please don’t reject me again
Where have yah been? I see your eyes – chaos and guilt brewin’
Eminem/Rihanna: Sing to me your lullaby with sexy style and a brilliant beat
I’ll dance naughtily – you make me feel neat and my feet are tappin’ and tappin’…I 
can’t stop my feet! 
I don’t care about California’s heat! 
I’m dreamin’ about California and its cheerful, sun-drenched summertime
My time spent with you ain’t a waste of time! You and I’s love is extremely 
sublime! 

Sing to me your lullaby with Sexy Style in California 
Dance with me and go with the flow with em all!

Beyonce: Come here…fly to me…don’t be blue
Rihanna: If you only knew…that I loved you
Lady Gaga: But, I guess I was that bizarre girl that came out of the blue…just b/c 
I’m eccentric, doesn’t mean I ain’t wild and epic…
Lady Gaga/Eminem/me: Come along with me…we’ll be on our own
Speechless, but having the time of my life
Making a cherry-top decision – it’s my mission to call you up on my telephone…
*ring ring ring*
There it rings again…you left me breathless – don’t provoke me to anger and 
befriend strife
Everyone:For, it cuts me like a sharp, jagged knife…
Rihanna: You won’t see me cry… all my life…

~!@#$%^&*()_+=-0987654321`~

Beyonce: *no more singing* That’s a good ending, girl. Good job. *pat pat*
Me: what’s up with that cool ending, RihRih! That was tight! 
Rihanna: Thanks a bill *giggles* I took that from my song “Cry”…I won’t deny it…
Lady Gaga: You’re crazy good, but I like crazy good people like you
Adele: Nevermind I’ll find someone like yoooooou! –
Rihanna: I’m sorry to come across as rude, but who invited Adele?
*everyone points at me and everyone laughs*
Beyonce: Oh my word…I shouldah known..it was silly Davey Wavey!
Me and Rihanna: Uhuh…mhmmm…*we crack up with laughter and can’t keep a 
straight face*

~!@#$%^&*()_+~!@#$%^&*()_+=09##@^%%$^543@11~


Long poem by jack oritx | Details |

THE TOUR

THE TOUR 
WHOA! 
Stop right there my friend! 
For there’s no place in where you can run and hide  
So stop and listen  
Listen to the voices warning you to go back 
Screaming out to beware of the horror that flows through this young child’s mind  
Opps too late! 
You just had to do it  
Didn’t you  
You just had to enter into the darkness of this fallen soul 
Well don’t just stand there come closer since its to late 
To turn back now 
Ready?  
Okay then welcome to the horrors of this poetic mind 
For in here you’ll hear and feel what’s like to be me 
For you’re in my world now and its not a pretty site 
So where do you like to begin 
Oh I know 
Why don’t we go and see what my heart is up to 
Shall we  
Heart: this is umm oh I’m sorry but you never told me what’s your name is 
Oh well it doesn’t matter 
Heart, do you mind telling my new friend here how you continue to beat inside of this old wrap body of ours  
My pleasure I may beat but what I really want to do is 
Explode from all the voices that whisper to my soul 
Late at night 
Thanks heart and speaking of our soul 
Let’s go see what she’s up to okay  
Oh come on don’t try to run away now 
I tried to warn you before but you didn’t want to listen 
No 
You had dare to challenge the demons that rule over 
My heart, mind and soul 
So let’s just move on  
Hello Ms. Soul, I’d like for you to meet- 
Damn I really must learn your name anyway 
Would you mind telling my friend here 
How you continue to live and breathe through all of this everlasting pain  
Am I breathing?  
For day after day it feels like I’m suffocating from  
All this torment pain that flows through this child’s body 
For if you’d take a closer look inside of this old soul 
Of mines you’d see that I’m slowly dying from the inside out 
For maybe there’s a God above who’ll hopefully 
One day will forgive this child of mines 
Or 
Maybe the devil below who can hardly wait to get 
His ferly hooks inside this soul  
For if we aren’t allow to enter in neither one then  
Please I’m begging you please let me go and allow 
Us to burn in eternal peace  
Whoa! 
Even I’m lost for words let’s just move on before 
You start whining again 
So just sit back and relax as I introduce you 
To the most horrifying part of our tour 
The disturbing words of this child’s poetic mind  
Well thank you for that lovely intro and let me say  
How brave your young friend is for coming this far 
Frankly I never thought you’d make it  
Any way I know that I’m just blabbing for I know 
How you must feel I bet you’re just dying for me 
To just shut the hell up so you could get the hell 
Out of here 
Am I right? 
Of course I am so let me get to the point then you’ll be free 
 To go 
We come into this world without any guardian angels 
To show us how our life is going to be 
For I’m just a young child whose soul’s more than happy 
To welcome the bright lights of an icy hell that fills 
My heart  
And before you open your mouth to interrupt  
Let me save you the trouble since I know what your  
Going to say 
You’re going to say 
That these feelings will not last forever if I just have a  
Little faith 
Well let me tell you that forever has been here and gone 
My friend 
And to this very day this child is yet to believe that her day of faith will ever come 
For I’ve shown you all of my soul’s silence 
I’ve told you all of my heart’s torments 
But most important I’ve shown you the real me 
Not the happy outgoing person that I always  
Pretend to be 
For don’t you think that I’d love to forget how I’ve  
Been raped of all my innocence, faith and trust 
And have them replace with numbness, shame and pain 
But I can’t blame you for the sins of this child’s past 
No 
That would be useless since I could never be the person 
That so many of you wish for me to be 
So that completes the ending of this tour 
How did you like it 
Aww it left you pretty speechless huh 
I had a feeling that it’d well don’t just stand there 
With that stupid look on your face go get the hell out here 
That’s it just turn around and walk away 
Oh one more thing before you go I never did get your name 
Well it was very nice to finally met you God 
Now please get the hell out of here before you get trapped 
Within the walls of this wicked disturbed mind 
Oh hey wait! 
Could I just ask you for one small favor before you go 
I can  
Hey thanks 
Okay umm now bear with me cause this ain’t easy for me 
To ask 
But okay I really never learned how and nobody ever took  
The time to teach me and it’d mean so much 
To me if you’d open your heart just for a second and say 
 A prayer for me then maybe in that same split second I’d learn how to undo all the pain that ever been 
For one day if you shall remember me 
Remember what you’ve learn here today I want you to look down from that holy thorn of yours that you call heaven 
But I warn you, your eyes will burn from all the flames 
But don’t be sad 
For just as so many have forsaken you I’ve chosen to forsaken you 
Since the day I was born 
And yes, I’ll burn and forever vanish in a blink of an eye 
Why? 
You dare to ask well since the day you’ve placed me  
In a place named hell to live 
And love don’t you think its only natural that I would want to die here too 
Just think about it 
Copyright © belong to jack 2006 


Long poem by Debbie Guzzi | Details |

Corpus delicti

Close your ears, close your eyes and pray to me for, as close as this, you may never get to God. What immortals have you hoped to see? What espirit de corp have you longed for? Who will guide your earthly plod? Kiss me for I have kissed the lips of Lestat, nipped and pricked, punctured and sucked to husks, occasionally with regret, but more often lust's ascot what once was I, reveling in your taste, your musk. As Louis, I beguile with tawdry tales surreal visages of plantation nights, horror of the color green, Letiche roaming creatures who our trails conceal, the true demons whose glamour goes unseen. Yes, I prayed for death, wrapped in the pain of lost kin but, by God I never wished, I never wished for Him. 2 But, by God, I never wished, I never wished for Him. Eternity alone is such a hollow thing, unripe, never, ever, feeling full, a marrow-less bone, scrim- shaw's sorry surface, a sperm-less whale to pipe. Such as this was He, when him came to me that mid- night, pleading, bleeding, ever feeding morbid life. A cameo on cowry shell, with skin which bid the touch of cheek on cheek to assuage my grief to fill the brother-less gap the lack of wife. This is how he lured me to the kill, the blood spilled how fire and innocence flamed when he arrived. Do not hate me for the fate his kiss instilled Surely, a family is the normal thing to long for alive or dead to long for an espirit de corp. 3 Alive or dead to long for an espirit de corp crestfallen at the lack of hearth and home, pride we hidden monsters kill what we adore, and more ... leaving us in marble crypts with no warmth inside. Then He saw her, the child beside the corpse of mother half dead, the pox upon her face, amidst the tears certainly to save her was His goal, what other? But now I think her savior - a most foul affair. Claudia, the child eternal, bidding, unformed blight, monster among monsters, her wee wicked formed unbudded curdled, curling ever inward, a trickster charming night stalker, dragging porcelain dollies by her side. Daughter mine? Temptress, maker-killer, unformed bride have you killed your father, dumped him in a swampy hide? 4 Have you killed your father, dumped Him in a swampy hide? Years you've planned and plotted, Lestat to defy and I absorbed in misspent fantasy with you; my fate allied. Damned one, poisoner, death angel, do you deny the desecration of the His unmoving vessel, fed to the fishes, the bottom feeders, oh but He made do ... absorbed recaste, laid in wait each hungry cell. We fled the patricide, you and I sought others of our kind. What gruesome, ill bred misfits the world held and so hardening the unbeating heart ... beloved to mankind we returned as if compelled. To the core of life and lore to Paree, to the bloody stage the Theatre des Vampires is home. Mockery's the rage. 5 The Theatre des Vampires is home. Mockery's the rage. Do you see them now? Four hundred years and Armand has not changed. See them lure the human meat upstage with laughter. Reality's the rage and oh the blood coined. "How gauche!" our petite Claudia sighs, the excess in gore and waste. But, the coven has my Armand's grace. For Claudia, Madeleine the doll maker dies, reborn to mother the horrific woman 'neath this childish face. A family formed again when Lestat steps in alive and the coven lets the sun take Claudia and Madeleine. I entombed, walled in, buried alive, if not for my Armand. Their ashes, oh my dears, in death entwined. I burned the lot of them within their caskets, burnt alive; the curtain fell yet there was still Armand and I. 6 The curtain fell yet there was still Armand and I. I could nor forget, would not forget, the fate of Claudia of which he was no small part, it was a small lust easily untied. Home was all I wanted, the damp, the swamp, the bougainvillea sickened of my Old World haunts, all I wanted was home. Never, never would I make another, a comfort I decline. Let the modern age wonder where it is I roam; penance unearned and ungiven in the shadows I hide. I can not live, I can not breathe, death's my only company my wife, my child, my brother, so many others. The living dead is what we're called, Vampire, do you pity me? Lestat "Do you see me? Your sight I dread!" West coast, golden gates Baghdad by the bay in the bars I linger where men are men, aren't they? 7 In the bars, I linger, where men are men, aren't they? I find you here, or you find me? I bare my soul to you of lessons learned, of men, of plays, ah cabarets. "What do you do, what do you say, you writer you ... two footed harridan of clay? You long for the eternal kiss as if the bliss of life was so very little to pay. Fool that you are ... not in life or death would you be grist a waste you are, a mortal led so far astray. No passion's left, no fond memories ... but her golden hair. Perhaps, I'll take a taste of you, foolish fop, and sigh; no immortal will I make. On the floor, I will leave you there refuse beside the pages, the sordid tales as my reply. As my lips close on your throat, heaven's absentee, close your ears, close your eyes and pray to me.


Long poem by Timothy Hicks | Details |

The Cascade Adventures - Part 1

It's been four years since I've seen so much as an insignificant mountain creek. Been overburdened with comfort, now frantic with nature withdrawals, having to settle for photos found on Google Images: emerald pine trees, blue jays on limbs, moonlight cutting through forests, lakes the color of Windex-ed glass. It's much like drinking water that's been doused with Crystal Light... you may feel yourself becoming hydrated, when it reality it's only satiating your thirst temporarily. So you can imagine my joy when my best friend called me up to break the news.

"Monica, Brandon, Joel and I are gonna go backpacking. Care to join?"

the finality
of a cell hitting the floor -
shoe tying

Like a bunch of sardines packed in a can on wheels, we headed out to beautiful Cascade: the place where the Idahoan mountains aren't just paintings from afar, but close enough to taste. We weave our way through the spider-like dirt trails, as we each take turns changing songs on Joel's iPod. It's my go and I'm searching through the John Denver list, mourning the fact that there's over a hundred songs by him, and not one of them is Colorado Rocky Mountain High (the one song I could say fit my feelings to a tee). The menagerie of everyone's taste in music made for an interesting trip no doubt - even if Jonathan picked the worst possible jams simply for annoyances sake.

My first peculiar observation:

Humans have been making calendars for thousands of years (the first being more akin to cave drawings and stone tablets than paper). But as long as all that has been going on, the mountains don't care that August is expected to be sultry as November is expected to be chilly. Cause June took her first baby steps with a stubborn December mindset - a meandering way to say it was cold enough to freeze your nads off. The mounds of five feet snow made it all the more comical the fact I was wearing plaid shorts. Mother Nature wasn't going to be kind, I could tell.

like turtles
struggling to stand -
our packs full of crockery

It was breezy at first. We would practically glide down the mountain side, using our backpacks as a counter balance. The snowy counterpart to kangaroos, we were. The glistening flakes were thick enough to snowboard down - granted I never touched a snowboard, let alone ridden one. But after seeing this it gives me ideas...

Monica smiled for the camera, as I fumbled for my iPhone, a smile that didn't even require the forcible Say Cheese! nonsense. It wasn't waiting for the camera flash, but the other way around. Now you might be calling that rather pathetic, but I brought my iPhone along simply for the function of capturing memories. Angry Birds just don't compare to the real ones, sweet with lilting songs.

My second peculiar observation:

Google Images is an absolute horrid plagiarist; some beauty just can't be encapsulated despite all our advances in high-def technology.

The downward slope finally leveled out a bit, if only for a few minutes. Truth be told the path never stopped declining - some routes were simply more apparent than others. Our group of five walked single file through the trees, all basing our faith that Joel (a person who has been to the site once when the trail WASN'T covered in snow) would lead us in the right direction. And here's another interesting fact; this was no official trail, but a hike through the purest of adventures, unpredictable and unreliable.

crushing pine needles
with un-gloved fingers -
roaring rivers beneath the snow

The first time my whole leg collapsed into the fragile surface of the snow made me realize just how far above the dirt I was walking. I'd ask Brandon for assistance with a beet red blush on my cheeks - I blamed it on my fair skin falling victim to the sunny day. From then out I tiptoed with exaggerated caution, my heavy pack helping me just as much as it was hindering me. For even a foot drop had to be taken with a grain of salt. Everyone had to adjust to the added weight (except for Monica, with her light load of a sleeping bag, nothing else). I'd very ungracefully glide through twigs and pesky low branches, oblivious of my bare legs. In all honesty the cold didn't get to me, just the scratches of neighboring trees is where my concerns lied. At anytime I could have stopped the whole gang, beaming, "Wait a spell and let me put on some pants for crying out loud". Course that never happened, my clothes were in the bottom of my pack, and I was no where near desperate enough for monkeying around with that sorry mess.

slick slates
slanting down the cliff edge -
helping hands

Joel, with his redneck stubble, beams up at me, "Every hiking trip needs a little bit of adventure, don't rush it by any means!". That's the last thing on my mind - the first is whether or not that rock I'm about to put my weight on is as stable as she looks. It's a very roundabout route, and as questionable as it is, it's safer by a long shot than the first path we took - call it a 103 degree wall.



NOTE: Still working on writing out the rest of my trip to Cascade. It was my first backpacking trip and even though we only stayed one night, the trip is full of wonderful memories.


Long poem by David William Breidenthal | Details |

Throw the Blame on Me

Giving in to the silence one last time,
Everyone needs encouragement once in a while
Some need it everyday
For God’s sake, hear me out during this time of suffering
You're different from everyone else
It's not your fault x2
It's okay to be unique as long as you get along with your friends and enemies
Don't you feel comfortable with your group of friends?
You don't have to run away from the truth... 
Unless your bound to hear those heartless, malicious lies

Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me? 
Why don’t you
Unchain me free? Can you do that for me?
Can you do that to earn 
A ticket to freedom?
Can you heal this burn
That makes me feel numb and dumb?
Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me?
If it makes you feel better,
You can go ahead and ignore my plea
Throw the blame on me x3
Throw the b-blame on m-me

I’m the only one, feeling down in the gutters
I sponge in everyone’s emotions and it crashes into me
It seeps through me like the cool atmosphere
Sending me shivers down my spine, giving me mere fear
I don't know what you're thinking or making up in your silly, little mind
Are you planning on doing revenge? 

Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me? 
Why don’t you
Unchain me free? Can you do that for me?
Can you do that to earn 
A ticket to freedom?
Can you heal this burn
That makes me feel numb and dumb?
Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me?
If it makes you feel better,
You can go ahead and ignore my plea
Throw the blame on me x3
Throw the b-blame on m-me
Throw the blame on others, but YOU are not innocent 
If only you'd repent... Now you're faith is put on sale
Blame it on me, you pathetic jerkasaurus! I sting like a sinister serpent 
You're the "hero that won everone's heart" - you're a flippin' fail!!

I see that you're cornered by anger
I saw you almost falling off the edge
I smell your fury like a wildfire !! !!
But, I know that I might bring you some light...when the day embraces the night
You're different...now that's no lie...you never leave my sight
You never leave my sight
You are cotton candy, melting in my mouth with utter delight 
Why do I have to wave goodbye to our love when it's just the beginning? 
Maybe our time is tight! Alright...
Everything's black and white now! 
Give me your full attention somehow!

Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me? 
Why don’t you
Unchain me free? Can you do that for me?
Can you do that to earn 
A ticket to freedom?
Can you heal this burn
That makes me feel numb and dumb?
Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me?
If it makes you feel better,
You can go ahead and ignore my plea
Throw the blame on me 
Do you have proof, you act like a stubborn fool that used the wrong tool 
Why are you so extremely... Cruel??
You aren't cool - you're fire from hell
Where does your heart dwell? You make my heart go pell-mell!! 
Don't even try to put all the b-blame on m-me
You nearly killed me with your malicious envy!! 

Why did everything result in my breaking point?
My fragile, yet sturdy bones are out of joint 
I wanna share with you my divine flight
Reach for the sunlit sky with the peace-abiding angels
Fly like a herd of elegant birds
Hear me out - I can't meet to your high standards 

Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me? 
Why don’t you
Unchain me free? Can you do that for me?
Can you do that to earn 
A ticket to freedom?
Can you heal this burn
That makes me feel numb and dumb?
Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me?
If it makes you feel better,
You can go ahead and ignore my plea
Throw the blame on me x3
Throw the b-blame on m-me

This hardhearted love never warmed me up in the first place
I never want to see your face in the streets again…

Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me? 
Why don’t you
Unchain me free? Can you do that for me?
Can you do that to earn 
A ticket to freedom?
Can you heal this burn
That makes me feel numb and dumb?
Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me?
If it makes you feel better,
You can go ahead and ignore my plea
Throw the blame on me x3
Throw the b-blame on m-me
If it makes you feel better,
You can walk away from my sight and leave me be
I'll never look back at your shadows... Reflections
Why do I feel like you abandon me like a long, lost puppy - I hate having to deal with rejections
I've been handed the wrong directions

I never want to see your face in the streets again…

You left me without a trace
You left me alone in an empty room all day and you didn't have any pity of my soul - sorry to be blunt, but it's the bothering truth you must learn to accept - you must pay the price
You never gave me a piece of your grace
If it makes you feel better,
You can go ahead and ignore my plea
Though my heart would give in to the gloom of today and you didn't even bother to actually take my little advice and I'm, once again, your living sacrifice
Break the silence and greet me with a promising smile


Long poem by binibining p.iNk | Details |

Am I Turning into a Lizard Serial Killer

Hmmm, where do I start? With deep sighs, I am sighing right now.
I just finished burying 2 lizards, and my heart is heavy...

Let me back up a bit...bear with me if I might turn out to be confusing here,
but I just need to write this, release something, in some way
Although I must admit, this is not exactly what I had in mind to write for this day,
hopefully I can write something more decent later...

I have been wanting to write something for my brother since yesterday,
since February 26 is his 10th year death anniversary.
The words remained stuck in my heart, 'til I fell asleep.

Visited him again today, heard mass for him, 
ate a Chinese dinner with my parents and sister, went home.

I now needed dessert. Got a piece of Ferrero Rocher, but just one wouldn't do.
So I got a piece of Almond Roca this time and ate it while walking.

All this time, I have managed to keep my tears away
but maybe somehow, someway, if tears want to fall, they will find a way?

I walk to that area again as I ate that piece of chocolate-
when what do you know, what do you know??

Oh sighs.

I stepped on a lizard.  Again 

Yes. Almost exactly the Same area, tail falls off, and the lizard skitters away.

But. I did not slip this time. But, yes, I still screamed, scaring everybody again.

I. Could. Not. Simply. Believe. IT.

One month and 25 days after, I step on a lizard. Again.

Today, of all days. As if I needed more reason to be sadder.

This time around, I had the sense to try to find that lizard. 
I had to know if it lived, if it was okay.
I pushed away the nearby cabinet.
And there it was.
Rather, and there they were.

The lizard that I stepped on now
and the petrified remains of the lizard that I stepped on on new year's day...
the other one didn't live after all :(

I know it was that lizard, same area, no tail, who else could it be?
Survival mechanism, no match for my killer foot.

By this time, I am crying, sobbing. 
Seriously, the tears just start falling, and my heart so heavy.
And I know it's from the combination of so many things.
The day itself, what I had just done, just things running through me.

What broke my heart, was to see that lizard. 
I was wearing rubber shoes this time, last time I was wearing slippers.
And its guts had spilled from its sides. 
I couldn't help but keep on saying, "Oh, oh, oh lizard, I am so sorry"

I touched it feebly, and it was literally gaping its mouth.
I don't think I can ever forget that?
Such a small creature, gasping, with its insides out, 
its skin on its legs and body scraped.
In pain.
Dying.

And it was all my fault.

My sister was there with me, trying to help in her own way.

But yes, there's nothing you can really do...I didn't want to stress it even more,
and let death finish what I did. 


There's so much I can glean from this, and I want to ramble on, so badly
but I will try to stop myself from rambling too much.

I put the two lizards, along with a note, the dates when I stepped on them 
(ok, killed them), and placed them carefully in a chocolate truffle box.

I buried them and still feel so sorry.

In some ways, this is can be so funny, and just  freaky & crazy (what's new, this is me?)
What were the odds??? Same place, same thing happening.
And I can't help but roll my eyes at myself as well, just finding it so hard to fathom
how I stepped on not just one but Two lizards in just two months.

I bet that the lizards are all afraid of me now, 
saying how I am a lizard killer. A serial lizard killer.
MO: stepping on them while screaming, maybe my screams also killed them off?

I actually took photos of both lizards, I am not sure why though.
Oh dear God, help me, I am acting like one, even documenting them.

I tell you, as I watched that lizard die, I couldn't help but just also
think of St. Jude (for the impossible) and St. Francis of Assisi (for animals).

I know he was dying, but somehow, yes, prayers still comfort me.

I just feel so guilty, with this happening. 

I still can't help but cry for those lizards, death by me, for no reason at all,
no purpose served.

Animals, people....death.

I know it's all a part of life... 
but it still doesn't change the fact how death can change us
and of how I am responsible for two lizard deaths.
I know they were just small animals, but Still. They were living creatures.

Death can change us in small ways, some in big ways, negatively or positively.

It all boils down to death transforming us one way or another...

I won't expound on it anymore, this is too long,
but one of the ways I can think of comparing it to, is that of a chemical change,
maybe of the spirit, the soul? Not merely a physical change.


And we can never be the same. 






022720141207123552


Long poem by Poet Destroyer A | Details |

Poet Convention 2014

Poet Convention

Lost in a poets convention, 
I can't recall every poem, I've read through the years
50518, unique comments I 'validate'--- 
Thank You For Sharing Your Happy and Sad tears 
Since March 24, 2010 In the mist of every line, 
I'm sending special hugs, for he/she that favorite me through the years 

Today's Convention, 
A praise to all poets mentioned and not mentioned

I will miss, the sweetest girl on this block LEONORA G.,
She treats me with love, adores my words and twisted poetry.  

I will start with the soups famous October, 7th babies,  
Frank and Kash, Debbie D, and myself, these lines belong to us, 
Our best characteristic has everything to do with the mind 
In our poetic hearts you'll find the symbol of justice and balance

This is not a song, it is not a poem, it's a free falling memo written with style

Back in March 2013, I said it then, I'll say it again 
Andrea, you and only you are the Poet Queen 
By the Queen, sits the Poet King of rhymes, Robert L. Hinshaw
Thank you both for never stepping on your loyal subjects 
Carol B., & Linda Marie, no one can replace the hole you left inside

I will miss all the little poetry pups, who came and sat by my side 
MAHIMA and Saanvi, and Sabrina, thank you for the encouragement

Phyllis, Joyce, Francine, Rhonda, Betty, sweet Karen A., and Catie, 
Clap your hands for the lovely quiet soup ladies.
Okay, maybe not Karen A., and Catie, these ladies love speaking their minds:)
SARA K., a mentor to some, a Fairy Godmother in my book
I will miss her "Magic Pen like Wand" dearly.
Gail, thank you for spreading your wings, and teaching us how to fly. 
Hopefully --wings are a nice gesture, --waving--  
"One day I'll see you again, my friend."

Daver Austin, "Go ahead, make my day" thank you for the show 
Now, you know why I referred to you as, "The Clint Eastwood of Poetry."
Russell Survey, encouraged my days and moods with his kind words

Scribe ML., where are you my friend? 
Don't you know your BIGGEST FAN misses you!!!

Dr Ram, Bindu V, Litan D., Donna J, Shadow, Sandra A., Peter Durgan, 
Giorgio V., Mystic Rose, BL Devnath and of course our Nette.
Thank you for being kind and rewinding and replying to every note.
Joseph M., Caleb S., Vincent F., Juliet L., Lucy Carrillo, Scott 37, Johnny R.,
Kelly D., thank you for the honor in always honoring my words

Roger Horsch meets Eileen Ghali, your smile, her smile always made me smile,  
No matter how many miles apart, our smiles always met on the same page.

Jenish, Don J., S.Z. Kamoonpuri, Gideon, Gary, Austin E., and Jody M., 
Fatima N., Mark N., Aiyah B., Ralph F., Kathryn C., Elly, Ayesha A.,
Clay W., Erich, Syam, MIKKI, John B., Olusegun, *Sukmawati* Gwen,
Delysia H., Frederic P., Richard L., Brenda L., Keith, Debbie G.,
Thank you for painting the best IMAGERY 

Michale Clarke, Charma C., Wayland B., Jancarl C., Carrie, and Harry, 
M&M, Abdulhafeez, Michael B., Maria P. S., CHAN and Mandy T.
You are only the beginning of what makes this a good community

Arlid A., Dinda M., Silly Billy, Tim Ryerson, we go way back.
Ravindra, Kim M., Richard S., Honestly JT., Wade A., Dom-X.
The ingredients in your poems, makes the best soup remix

Joe M., Jack H., James H., James P., Tim B., Jon A. C., Allan K., Matthew A.
Deb Wilson, David S., David William, Thomas S., Cecilia M. 
Keep that pen flowing for tomorrow needs poets like you.

Justin B., Laura B., your words will continue to be a part of me.
Owen Y., and John L., your visits, your friendship I will never forget

Yasmin and Carl F., hanging out with you on the soup was the best.

Cherl Dunn, and Colleen Bono, SandyIvy, I will miss everything about you, 
Mostly I will miss your friendship and the way you took care of me.

Poet and sister Skat, keep rocking what I can't.... 
Copy paste your love, welcome in the new.
Show Edwina, Robin, Sam B., and all the NEW POETS they belong

Last but not least-- Behind every mess, they are the best 
--Craig Cornish and Cyndi McMillan
What have you done, I admit without you this place would have been no fun.
Thank you for the spin, making every penny worth our paid premium memberships

Before I forget, 
I want to take this time to reminisce and add two old friends to my hot list.
Nikko and Chris A..... My first POETRY SOUP FRIENDS.
I will never forget you, and all the fun moments we had,
Back when the soup was not like this:) 
Chris, can you ever forgive me, I never stepped up to say "I was Sorry!"

As you know my kindness is my weakness 
Now it's time to be strong and move on 
If one day I return, then you know, I fell off the wagon
And, into arms and luring fingers of Team Poetry Soup
AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNN!

Love 
The Poet Destroyer


Long Poems